Meklex: it can only scare lazy readers....... Bring it on!!

thanks guys! am working on the conclusion.

2bey: Please continue.

Wow! You read it? For a moment there I was scared the length would have scared 'would be' readers.

What really matters? That’s the million dollar question. Sometimes we tend to tell ourselves that if we had a lot of money we wouldn’t have problems but, does that mean that the bill gates of this world and the dangote’s are problem free? A man whose wife has female children feels that the solution to his woes would be to have a male child, while a woman with only male children would strongly disagree. The truth is human beings are insatiable, he wiped his brow as he looked through the back window of the eighteen seater Volkswagen bus he was cramped into, it was a hot sunny day and he felt sweaty and generally in foul mood. ‘’Oga Where your money?’’ the conductor asked. He seemed to be one of those ageless fellows, somehow stuck between adolescence and adulthood, he had one of those faces that could either have been the face of an eighteen year old or that of a forty year old Nigerian. He was quite short but the fact that he was hunched into the bus to allow the door close didn’t do him any good either. He looked like an imp…..no I take that back he looked like a gnome, a muscular gnathy gnome that was fluent in pidgin and Yoruba. The man adjusted his tie ‘this heat no go kill persin while he reached into his back pocket for his wallet, struggling to drag it out, it took like a century before he was able to vest it free, this earned him a lot of disapproval from the grossly obese woman sitting beside him. She was one of those artificially light skinned fifty something year old women who taught it was cool to be light skinned when they where younger. The man succeeds in bringing out a thousand naira note and attempts to hand it to the conductor with the evident discomfort of the fat woman who grunts like pig. ‘Oga no shange iyo, wey you want make I get ishange from?’ the man tells him to just hold the bill and to collect other peoples fare first, this makes the conductor hiss and do as suggested but the man is incensed ‘haba, na my fault say I no get change? I be CBN gov’nor? Na atm gimme the money na?’ the conductor mutters something in Yoruba and keeps quiet. The ride continues in quiet bliss for the next twenty minutes. The man just sits and stares through the window for an eternity at the slums of apapa ajegunle. It seems like a lifetime ago when he first came to lagos from his village, he can remember all to well how his mother prayed that her son would go to lagos and become a ‘big man’, he can remember the excitement of first arriving in the much talked about lagos the rush of getting his first job and his first pay check. ‘shitload of good that did’ he smiles bitterly.
He gives his thought a break to realise that while he was lost to em’ a lot had been going on in the bus. ‘’………this medicine go cure diabetes, all other nyama nyama jedi jedi wey dey disturb you,only for four hundred Naira’’ the ‘traffic marketer’ (like he likes to call em’) was shouting, he was a jolly big fellow who probably was well to do at some point but fell on hard times. He had on a pretty costly looking suit and had the skin tone of a man who is used to staying in air conditioned buildings. People generally ignored the traffic marketer as he struggled to be heard over Femi kuti’s voice on the radio. ‘’ I sorry sorry ooo,I sorry for Nigeria ooo…..’’. The man wipes his face with his handkerchief and struggles to open the creaky window as the bus crawls in traffic to the next bus stop. The traffic marketer takes his cue and sits down probably more tired of contesting with femi kuti than discouraged, the man brings out his phone and looks intently at the picture of the lady on his wallpaper. He smiles bitterly for a while then purses his lip and frowns before he puts his phone back to the confines of his pocket. If you are wondering who she is and why he frowned her name is Elaine and it’s complicated. ‘what really matters? That’s the million dollar question’. The bus finally crawls to the next bus stop, and as the conductor slides the door open passengers begin to jump out even before the bus comes to a halt. the bus is now occupied by a bunch of rowdy teens, the oldest and obviously the person they all look up to is a wizkid wanna be. He has on the same kind of sunshade wizkid normally wears in all those pepsi adverts with tiwa savage and he basically has the same kind of tattoo. They really are a loud bunch and the man isn’t comfy around them. He subconsciously goes back to his thoughts ‘what really matters?’ Elaine………how could I have been such a fool? He goes back to a time in his mind when the world was a sane place and he had Elaine. They met in a very unusual manner, at the most unusual venue…..a burial. He was a young man then strong and confident, not the most handsome around but he had a homely face. A Doctor’s face his friends used to say but he was no doctor, ‘doctor ke? Who dash monkey banana?’ the bus slows down at a police checkpoint and a policeman with a flash light walks round the bus inspecting it like a slaver with recently captured slaves on the block for inspection. They are waved on after the driver has ‘sorted’. The man pulls uncomfortably at the knot of his tie as he sighs aloud. Elaine….he can remember the first time he saw her,its as clear as today even though it was over five years ago. he had just arrived his village on the eve of Christmas when after the pleasantries his mum told him about johns passing,
........To be Continued....